Eye of the Beholder
by deithwen
Summary: Update! Due to unexpected demand, new chapters to come starring your fav Witcher universe heartthrobs. Feat. Geralt, Emhyr, Roche et al and their carnal encounters with Renzin the Eye, my character. Doesn't strictly adhere to canon and set somewhere during the timeline of Witcher 3. Thank you to Sapkowski for creating this universe, sorry for bastardizing it in my erotic dreams ;)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Renzin barely opened one eye, reluctant to stir from beneath her warm furs. Two floors down, someone was at the door of the castle. She expected one of two things would occur shortly: either her manservant would come rushing to her chamber with news of the visitor, or the visitor had ill intentions and her manservant would be slaughtered. Renzin groaned in her throat at the inevitability of being disturbed. She flung back the heavy furs and stood up out of bed, donning a silken robe.

Outside the windows lightning flickered followed by a rumble and crack of thunder. The rhythmic hum of the rain beat loudly against the sides of the castle. Footsteps grew nearer and Renzin's manservant appeared at the doorway of her chamber with a lantern, pushing through the fabrics that hung there. "Forgive me mistress, I bade him return at sunrise but he was insistent and carries a missive from the emperor…" He trailed off as a tall, broad-shouldered man entered the room behind him. The visitor's bone white hair was pasted against his head and his leather and mail armor dripped profusely, already forming a pool of rainwater at his feet. Two hilts glinted over his shoulder. He stood stiffly and flicked his arms, scattering droplets of water on the stone floor.

"Geralt of Rivia," Renzin stated calmly.

The visitor raised his eyebrows. "Have we met, my lady?"

Renzin smiled. "No, witcher, though it should hardly surprise you when strangers recognize who you are."

"Suppose you're right," Geralt said. He held out a rolled parchment with a wax seal. "Apologies for disturbing you at this hour my lady, but this is a matter of urgency and the emperor informed me you could help."

Renzin's manservant took the parchment and walked across the room to hand it to her. Renzin snapped the seal and unrolled the document. She skimmed it briefly and handed it back. "So, Emhyr thinks I can help you find his daughter. Well, I am certainly willing to aid you but not at this devil's hour in the midst of a thunderstorm." She gestured to the manservant. "Argo, prepare a room for him. The witcher will be our guest until our business concludes."

"At once, mistress." Argo nodded his head and stepped briskly out of the chamber.

Geralt pursed his lips. "Ah, my lady—"

"Yes, yes, I know, it is a matter of urgency," Renzin interrupted, as she lit a brazier near her bed. "Believe me, I'll be of much use to you." She scanned his soaked armor with some disdain. "But right now, you need to dry yourself. Your room won't be ready yet so you may place your items on that bench by the brazier. I'll find you a towel."

Geralt's gaze followed her as she padded over to a large armoire. _Unusual woman_ , he thought. At the borders of her floral silk robe he could see dark patterns covering every inch of her sand-colored skin, cryptic, ritualistic patterns, stopping just beneath her jawline. The light of the fire glinted off her cascade of straight black hair.

Geralt unbuckled the leather straps crisscrossing his chest and reached behind as his swords loosened from his back. He wrapped the straps around his swords and placed them on the wide stone bench beside the burning brazier. The effects of the long, arduous ride to this castle were starting to catch up to him and the dull pain in his muscles caused him to groan under his breath. He unbuckled both sides of his pauldrons and let the panels of leather and mail slide to the floor. With some difficulty he pulled the rest of the armor over his head and dropped it beside his swords, followed by his quilted gambeson. He kicked his heavy boots off without sitting and peeled his soaked trousers from his pale skin.

Renzin stood near him with a large towel in hand, observing the way the shadows danced off this man's multitude of scars. She glanced over his golden cat's eyes, almost glowing in the dim light. When he had slipped off his leather gloves she handed him the towel. "So what did Emhyr tell you about me?" she asked as he brusquely dried himself.

Geralt smirked. "Couldn't bear to reveal much my lady, as is his way." He draped the towel over his shoulders and crossed his arms, relishing the warmth of the fire. "Told me you're known as Renzin the Eye and you have certain abilities that would help put me on Ciri's trail. Also informed me you were invaluable to him. His exact words." Geralt raised his chin inquisitively. "So what is it that makes you the treasure of an emperor, my lady?"

Renzin looked Geralt square in the face. "I'm a true clairvoyant," she said, and the corner of her mouth curled slyly.

Geralt stared directly into her piercing gaze for the first time since he'd arrived, her left eye dark and smoky and her right eye deep green like an emerald. _Better watch myself_ , he thought.

Renzin's long almond eyes widened in amusement. "Don't trouble yourself my dear witcher, there's no use. I'm not a sorceress casting a spell that you can fend off from your mental fortress. My ability is inborn, and if I so choose I can see your every intent, emotion and machination. True clairvoyance delves much deeper than a mere incantation."

Geralt furrowed his brow. "Doesn't it get tiring, your fingers in other people's lives all the time?"

"It would if I had to listen _all the time_ ," she replied, and laughed darkly. "In fact, it would drive me insane. The rituals of my people's magi have granted me immense control over the ability, however. At the small cost of looking like a human scripture." She held out her hand and looked down at it, dark runes spiralling toward her fingertips. She looked back up and her gaze flitted over the lean, rocky terrain of the witcher's musculature, honed by decades of swordplay.

Geralt felt her inexorable focus hungrily absorbing elements of his body, his face, his stance, probably laying bare his mind's contents. "Forgive me my lady, but what advantage does an emperor gain keeping you close instead of a magic user with an arsenal of different spells for different situations?" he asked. _Besides that strange beauty_ , he thought.

Renzin laughed heartily and clasped Geralt's arm for a moment. "Oh my dear witcher, you see, unlike most sorceresses I have no political ambitions whatsoever. If I wanted I could have Emhyr's seat quite easily, but to be honest it really doesn't interest me. For me the inner lives of others are like an ever-changing play, and I absolutely adore my front row seat. Hence the company I choose to keep is necessarily quite interesting, to say the least."

A sense of mild embarrassment crept through Geralt which felt quite foreign to him. He wanted to laugh at himself. There was no way to know whether Renzin was probing at the moment but he felt strangely abashed that she may know how quickly he had started slathering over her in his mind like some starved dog. _The true witcher's path_ , he thought, _fucking, fighting, and fortune-seeking. In that order_. This time he did laugh aloud. "Never encountered anyone like you," he told her, in a tone she could tell was genuine.

"And I myself can say I have met a few witchers over the years but never one so storied as the fabled Geralt of Rivia. The bards have done you justice." Renzin smirked and said lowly, "Seems a pleasure, really, to have awoken from my slumber for such a man."

Footsteps echoed from outside the chamber doorway. Argo stepped in and nodded briskly. "My lady, Master Geralt's room is prepared. Shall I escort him there now?"

Geralt turned to collect his things from the stone bench. Renzin watched him and the corner of her lip curled. "Not just yet, Argo," she said, her eyes never leaving Geralt. "The witcher and I have not concluded the night's business."

Argo nodded once more, turned on his heel and exited briskly.

Geralt raised an eyebrow and looked over at Renzin. The firelight illuminated the curves barely hiding beneath the silk of her robe, the suggestion of slopes and crevasses pushing through the loose fabric. He felt a familiar stirring throughout his body.

"I hope you're not too exhausted from your ride through the storm," Renzin said huskily, meeting Geralt's gaze with a bemused expression.

"A witcher's stamina is not easily depleted, my lady," Geralt replied and stepped toward her, close enough to smell the warm perfume of her skin, her hair. He grinned wolfishly. "Perhaps a silly question but, read what I'm thinking right now?"

Renzin's slight smile widened, her claret lips curling back from her teeth. "Of course, Geralt. And in a rare instance, I'm sure you know what I'm thinking as well."

Geralt reached out and abruptly pulled her against him, letting the towel slide from his shoulders. Renzin could feel the hard throb of his cock against her pelvis, his hot breath. His scent was musky and tinged with dirt and grass, a man of the outdoors. There was also the faint metallic trace of blood that all who kill for a living carry with them, which she did not find unpleasant. He was only about a hand taller than her so she leaned her head back slightly and kissed him with an open mouth, reaching her arms around his neck and shoulders.

Geralt massaged her tongue with his and nipped at her lips. He ran his calloused hands over the small of her back and the curve of her ass, enjoying the exploration of this terrain. He reached under and squeezed hard, the flesh feeling substantial in his hand and supple to the touch. He growled low in his throat. Sliding his hands over her hips and never taking his mouth from hers, he pulled on the tie of Renzin's robe, letting the loose knot undo itself. Geralt reached in and grabbed her ass again but this time he could feel the soft warmth of her skin against his.

The witcher's hands were rough as unpolished stone and gave Renzin a delightful tingling sensation as they traversed her skin. She freed her mouth from his, wet with saliva, and looked down with amusement as she reached a hand into his undergarment. What she gripped there was thick and firm, velvety and pulsing with blood. She held it tightly for a moment, then gently ran her palm up the shaft and over the tip. Geralt inhaled sharply through his teeth and gave her a roguish grin. He bent down and kicked off his undergarment, standing stark and naked in the firelight with his erect cock pointing like a ship's bow.

Geralt looked inside Renzin's open robe and consumed the sight of her lightly muscled torso, the heavy teardrops of her breasts. Those dark patterns that covered her skin thinned to a few swirling lines over her bosom and became crowded with runes again near her collarbone. He put a hand on her back and wrapped his mouth over one dark nipple, simultaneously guiding her hand back to his loins.

"Mm," Renzin said and closed her eyes, tilting her head back. She pulled firmly on his cock while entwining her other hand in his thick white hair. She laughed suddenly and said in a droll voice, "Geralt of Rivia, famed plougher of sorceresses and all manner of women from Skellige to the Blue Mountains."

Geralt looked up at her. "Seems so," he said. "Hope to show you what all the fuss is about." He reached under her bottom and picked her up with one leg on either side of his torso. Renzin let out a small yelp and laughed as he dropped her unceremoniously onto the bed.

Kneeling, Geralt licked the length of her inner thigh and rubbed his face against her like a cat. He studied for a moment the dark folds where her legs met, then pushed his mouth in vigorously and laid his warm tongue over and over on the tender mound at the top. Renzin moaned loudly and arched her back. Her heavy breasts quivered as she writhed and clenched Geralt's hair. Her vocalisations steadily grew more urgent until she abruptly pulled his head up and leaned off the bed towards him. "Will you fuck me, witcher?" she breathed raggedly.

"I'll fuck you, you fucking…" Geralt growled, the last syllable trailing to a low rumble in his throat. He pulled her to the edge of the bed with her legs in the air. Grasping his thick cock, he rubbed the head firmly along her warm, moist folds and let it push itself in. Soft flesh enveloped his shaft and he groaned almost painfully. He started thrusting slowly but quickened his pace almost immediately. His thighs were slapping against her ass and Renzin moaned ardently like she was being beaten. He grabbed at her shuddering breasts and pulled the nipples lightly, feeling completely intoxicated. No witcher's potion or fisstech could give him this kind of euphoria.

Eventually Renzin flipped over and crawled up the bed. She grasped the ornate headboard with both hands, breathing heavily. Geralt embraced her from behind and fervently groped her breasts, her neck, rubbing between her legs. He drove his engorged cock inside her, swiftly pushing it as deep as it would go. Their impassioned cries echoed through Renzin's stone-walled chamber until presently, Geralt wrapped his large hand around her throat and pulled her head back until their cheeks were pressed against each other. Still thrusting urgently, he said in a low voice, "Tell me."

"Will you come for me?" Renzin gasped, Geralt's hand pushing on her throat. She felt like she was floating outside her mind. Her entire body was warm and weightless.

"Mm-hm," Geralt murmured, pushing harder and faster. The slaps of their skin was as rhythmic as the rain still falling outside the castle.

"Strike your blow," Renzin whispered, "come for me, witcher. Show me what a slayer of men and beasts can do—"

"Augh!" Geralt shouted and agilely yanked his cock out, flicking spurts of warm fluid over Renzin's pert rump. His body shuddered a few times and he collapsed onto his back, his cock still firm and twitching. Renzin panted and let herself fall face-first into the pillows. Geralt reached for her perspiration-covered body and pulled her onto his heaving chest. He kissed her vigorously and tasted salt on her tongue.

Renzin laid her head down on him and listened as his strong heartbeat slowed from its heightened pace. "Probably not what you were expecting when Emhyr sent you here," she said with a sleepy-eyed grin.

Geralt found himself struggling to come to his senses. There was always that dazed moment afterward but this was different. He felt as if he had ploughed the sky and shot forth the seas from his loins. This woman had used every angle to its best advantage. Each movement of her muscles was exactly in sync with his desires. Even bedding a sorceress was nothing like this. "You… just knew…" he choked out hoarsely as he continuously ran his hand over her moist skin, applying pressure here and there, trying to absorb more of whatever toxin she had poisoned him with.

"Knowing another's mind is a powerful thing in more ways than one," Renzin told him. She pulled the heavy furs over them and coaxed Geralt's body close to hers. "Sleep now, witcher. Tomorrow you may find out all you need to know."

* * *

When Geralt awoke he instantly felt more rested than he had been in a long while. Warm sunlight was beaming through the windows and when he looked to his left, it glinted off of sand-colored skin with dark patterns snaking through it. Renzin was sitting up in bed, still quite naked and poring over a yellowed tome. "Thought I'd wake and you'd have my soul in a bottle or something," Geralt said, rolling on his side to face her.

Renzin laughed and closed her book over. "Oh come now Geralt," she chided, "what on earth would I do with a witcher's soul, of all things?" She placed both hands on the sides of his face and scanned his placid expression, her emerald green eye flitting from feature to feature. Turning, she stood up out of bed, threw her silk robe on and sauntered toward the far corner where a steaming bath had been drawn.

Geralt admired her in the morning light briefly, then pulled himself up off the bed and stretched his still-aching muscles. He went over to the stone bench and examined his items which had all dried thoroughly. He pulled on just his trousers, not bothering to tighten the lacing at the crotch. "Manservant won't be offended that he made up my bed for naught?" he asked as he wandered toward where Renzin was bathing.

"Argo is the height of discretion," Renzin replied from the round wooden tub, "and he knows his mistress's tastes."

Geralt peered around the ornate partition separating the bathing area from the rest of the room. Renzin was sponging herself delicately, squeezing the soapy water out and letting it run down her shoulders. She had her eyes closed and the mounds of her breasts could just be seen peeking above the surface of the liquid. The bathwater smelled of fragrant tree bark and chrysanthemum. Geralt felt a growing tug at the undone laces of his trousers and exhaled gruffly. He reached out a hand and started stroking the back of Renzin's wet hair. His heightened senses told him someone was coming up the stairs but he didn't care.

Suddenly, the someone cleared their throat. Geralt's hand snapped back to his side and he turned to the doorway. Argo stood there with a large silver tray loaded with pastries, cheese and fruit. "Apologies for intruding, Master Geralt. I merely bring the morning's repast," he said with what Geralt assumed to be a well-practiced expression of neutrality.

"Thank you, Argo," Renzin called from the tub. "Towel, please."

Argo placed the food on a nearby side table. He picked up the folded towel from beside the tub and held it open as Renzin stepped out. Once she had wrapped herself he nodded sharply and left the chamber.

Renzin stepped around the partition and seated herself at the side table. "Well, are you going to join me or would you rather drink the bathwater?" she asked.

"Some men may jump at the opportunity," Geralt mused as he sat down opposite Renzin. "Curious to know more about you. Your accent, your face. Not sure I can even guess where you're from."

Renzin was mashing berries onto hunks of crusty bread. "It's very doubtful you'd know of my homeland," she told him between bites. "It's not on most of the maps I've seen around here. If you go south through Nilfgaard, and then very far east, you would still not be there."

Geralt wracked his brain. "Hakland?" he ventured.

Renzin laughed, reflexively covering her mouth with the back of her hand. "Not quite, my dear Geralt, I think you are pointed in the wrong direction. Using Zerrikania as a reference point, you can say I was born somewhere east of where even their people care not to venture."

"Far from home," Geralt commented. "Many like you in your homeland?"

"No," Renzin replied, "I am the only I know of. The magi have said one with power of my level and the strength to control it is only born every hundred generations, give or take." She thought for a moment then added, "The process is similar to what I've read of your witcher's trials."

Geralt raised his brow in interest. "Please, go on."

"As a young child, it was discovered that I had the clairvoyance," Renzin continued. "It had already started bothering me at that time. I couldn't understand why there was never silence in my head, why others' tragedies would bring me such great despair as well. The magi laid me under a moonless night and covered me with salt and oil."

Renzin's bi-colored eyes were glazed and seemed to be focusing on nothing at all. "As soon as their chanting began, every part of my skin started to burn with the fire of a thousand hells and the cold sear of the White Frost. I screamed my little throat ragged and they chanted their words until sunrise. When they washed me, I saw that my body had become covered in these patterns and runes you see now. But, the world was silent unless I reached out to hear more."

Geralt stared intently at her face in the sunlight and could see that it too was covered in strange linear markings, albeit very faint. "I'm sorry," he managed, unsure of what else to say.

Renzin shook her head and returned to her food. "Don't be, you of all people can understand what it is to endure something like that. I'm sure you believe me when I say, I know exactly what it is you went through." She placed a hand in his calloused palm and he squeezed it for a moment.

Standing up, Renzin stepped over cheerfully behind Geralt and placed both hands on his shoulders. "Well, enough with these tales of woe, wouldn't you say? I believe we have _matters most urgent_ to investigate."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Roach snorted heavily and spittle flew from the corners of his mouth. Geralt squeezed his thighs inward, gently urging the horse to speed up. Ahead he could see Renzin's black hair flying like a flag as she cantered along the trail on her grey steed. The towers of Novigrad loomed taller and taller as they neared the city outskirts.

Suddenly Renzin yanked hard on the reins, eliciting some whinnies of disapproval from her mount. They slowed to barely a walk as she scanned left and right with her brow furrowed.

Geralt and Roach pulled up alongside her. "What is it?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

"I just thought…" Renzin's gaze focused to the west where a small hamlet was visible a few hundred yards away. She nodded her head toward it. "Come, this way, Geralt."

"Explain this to me again?" Geralt said as he turned Roach sharply and followed Renzin's quickening pace.

"You said there was indication Ciri had been in Novigrad," Renzin said over her shoulder, "so we need to start from the outskirts and work our way in. As we pass areas I reach out and see if I can catch a glimpse of Ciri in anyone's thoughts. Maybe these peasant folk have seen her, or some wandering adventurer perhaps. Just now I'm quite sure I got a glance at something from this settlement over here, so we have to get closer."

" _Quite_ sure?" Geralt teased.

Renzin grinned and flicked at him with the end of her rein. "It's very complex you know, Geralt," she retorted. "When you're this far away from the source it's like trying to hold onto a dream after waking. Not as simple as casting a few lousy signs and swinging your sword about."

Geralt snorted in amusement. "Whoa now," he called to Roach as they neared the small gathering of huts. They sauntered along the main trail. Children chased each other back and forth across the yards and a dog itched itself furiously. Women chattered and sang as they hung laundry out on the line. _Idyllic_ , Geralt thought, and couldn't be sure whether what he felt was longing or boredom.

They came up to an aging, disheveled tavern. The weatherworn sign out front read _Seven Cats Inn_. "In here," Renzin indicated and the pair dismounted, tying their horses at the ramshackle fence.

The door creaked as they entered and many pairs of eyes snapped up to observe them from beneath shadowy brows. A lone minstrel was crooning a melancholy song and strumming his lute. "Over here," Renzin said quietly and hurried to an unoccupied table in the corner.

The pair sat in silence as the minstrel finished his song and launched into another. Geralt noticed Renzin was focusing on a filthy, hooded man sitting a few tables away from them. Poorly executed tattoos of blades and women adorned his arms and he was vigorously downing a mug of ale, ignoring the spillage that was dripping from his unshorn chin.

Before Geralt could ask, Renzin whispered, "He's heard talk of her. He's a King of Beggars man. Very low on their ladder though, practically a dog. He knows nothing but he's here waiting for someone, a superior. I'm willing to bet that man will know more of Ciri."

Geralt leaned on the table with his arms crossed for a moment then stood up abruptly and headed to the bar. He returned with two mugs of dark, murky liquid.

"Local stout?" Renzin commented incredulously as he set the mugs on the table and seated himself.

Geralt held his arms out and shrugged. "My lady prefers Erveluce? Pity they've just sold the last bottle," he mocked with a smile, and held up a mug.

Renzin reluctantly picked up her mug and tapped it against his. She took a large gulp and made a face like she'd just been rapped on the nose. "Bless you for this swill," she choked out and started to laugh.

Geralt took a drink himself. _Almost as bad as the damn potions_ , he thought. "So," he said, trying to chase the taste from his mind, "since we're waiting, curious to hear more about you and Emhyr. To be honest, can't picture him keeping on an advisor like you. Of course he could use an ability like yours, but he's just so—"

"Yes, he is," Renzin interjected. "But you see, my dear witcher, beneath his iron façade and all that power he is still a man, as hard as that is for the common folk to believe. Do you know, after Pavetta's death he wouldn't bat an eye at any woman, be she noble or otherwise. Part of it was loyalty, part of it was that he perceived the wandering eye as weakness, and part of it was he was simply not interested."

"Hmm," Geralt mused, "then _you_ came along?"

Renzin shot him an indignant look. "It wasn't like that, I assure you. I'll tell you, but it's quite a salacious tale. Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Come on, I'm no schoolboy," Geralt shot back, and leaned forward on his arms.

"You're certainly not," Renzin said with a sly expression. "I had already been serving as his advisor for a month or so. I was quite captivated by him and knew I could have him around my finger if I wanted but I chose to let him come to his own conclusions. It's much more fun that way…"

* * *

The room was silent save the scratching of the emperor's quill as he composed his note. Emhyr's office was not the grandest room in the palace at Vizima but it exuded a regal atmosphere, partially attributable to the man it contained. Tall stained glass windows beamed sunlight in a vast swath on the floor and a large painting of a disgruntled child Ciri sulked from one wall. The emperor's desk was planted directly in the center of the room, an intimidating sight to greet those entering through the door.

As Emhyr scrawled away without a word, Renzin reclined casually on a chaise lounge near a wall lined with bookshelves, poring intently through some arcane volume. It was about a month now since she had been introduced to the emperor by Ambassador var Attre. Initially Emhyr had insisted on a separate study for her as per the usual arrangement but Renzin had managed to convince him otherwise. "An advisor's place is at her monarch's side," she had stated curtly, and with that the emperor had begrudgingly opened the doors of his study to her. Outside of political discussions and audiences, silent tolerance between them was quite common.

Renzin knew she was growing on him. Even without looking into his mind she could tell that his reticence was becoming less disgruntled. Once or twice she'd caught him observing her from beneath his furrowed brow, glances he immediately snapped away from. She always took care to present her appearance immaculately when in his presence. Her dress this day was resplendent with deep hunter green and gold brocade, off the shoulder with long sleeves tailored tight to her arms. Her straight black hair was loosely braided. She had her feet delicately placed at the foot of the chaise, absent-mindedly sliding one foot in and out of its gilded shoe every now and then.

There was a firm rap at the door. "Come," Emhyr said without looking up from his writings.

The large door swung open and the emperor's chamberlain stepped in. "His Imperial Majesty, The White Flame Dancing on the Graves of his Foes, Emhyr var Emreis!" he announced in the Nilfgaardian dialect and bowed flamboyantly. A nobleman dressed in extravagant robes entered the room, hastily lowering himself into a bow as well. "Count Amyas Cordere of Vizima, Your Majesty," the chamberlain stated.

"Your Majesty," the nobleman proclaimed in the common tongue.

"You may leave, Mererid," the emperor said. The chamberlain nodded and closed the door behind him.

The count stood up and smoothed his robes. He wore a beard and mustache flecked with grey and a loose hat that flopped over the side of his head. "Your Majesty, I come to you seeking protection for my farmsteads outside Vizima," he said nervously, slightly wringing his hands.

"More?" Emhyr raised his eyebrows and looked up.

"Ah, indeed Your Majesty has privileged me with the support you have already provided," the count offered hurriedly, "but the thefts continue to plague us and in more locations as well. I have suffered immense monetary losses and ire grows amongst the peasantry."

The emperor placed his quill down on the desk. "Might I remind you, I am fighting a war," he stated slowly and deliberately.

Renzin looked up from her book. "You should consider making amends for embezzling from Delonzo Este," she told the count with a wry smile. "You know very well his men will discontinue the thefts. It would probably be quite prudent to cease your trade with his organization as well. You're lucky they haven't yet decided it'd be simpler to just kill you."

"Really, Cordere? Este, a known smuggler?" the emperor said with irritation.

The count, evidently flustered, shifted his gaze back and forth between the emperor and Renzin. "My lady, I know not of what you—" His voice weakened and he swallowed audibly as he felt Emhyr's burning stare on him.

"You'll find it's impossible to lie to my advisor," the emperor told him venomously. "Count Amyas Cordere, you shall receive no further protection. What soldiers remain will be recalled in one day's time at which point you will have ceased all affairs with Este's organization. If you do not comply you will be sentenced accordingly and your lands will be stripped from your name. This audience is finished." Emhyr picked up his quill and looked back down at his composition. "Mererid!" he called out.

Immediately the door opened and the chamberlain stood ready to escort the count from the study.

The count grimaced pleadingly. "But Your Majesty, my lady…" he stammered as Mererid guided him out the door, shutting it behind them.

As silence filled the room once more, Emhyr sighed and put his quill back down, rubbing his temples with both hands. He stood up and walked to a window with his hands clasped behind his back. "You've certainly been worth your weight in gold," he said to Renzin without turning to face her.

Renzin closed her book and placed it on the side table. "You flatter me, Your Majesty," she remarked.

"You may call me Emhyr," he stated flatly. "You're not one of my lords or my servants."

The corner of Renzin's lip curled slyly. "What would you say I am, Emhyr?" she asked playfully, looking over his strong back and large, robust hands. She had grown increasingly bewitched by his learned, authoritative presence, his stony gaze and soft but firm voice that struck reverence and sometimes fear into the hearts of all who faced him. She found herself charmed by his impeccable wardrobe, his silvered hair, the years in his face. _He's even more of a catch now than in poor Pavetta's time_ ," she conceded to herself.

Turning, Emhyr looked her over sternly at first but then something softened in his eyes. "I would say you're a mystery that surprises and perplexes me without end," he confessed.

"Mm-hm," Renzin said, defiantly returning his gaze. She toyed with the fringe of the pillow she was leaning on.

Emhyr moved toward her. "I would say you're someone who does not cower before me, a rare trait," he continued, placing one hand on the top trim of the chaise.

Renzin looked up at him languidly. "I see," she commented in a low voice.

"I would say…" Emhyr let his hand trail off the back of the chair, down the long line of Renzin's neck and over her collarbone. He inhaled audibly and concluded, "I would say you possess a singular beauty of which I have seen no equal."

Renzin could tangibly sense the power emanating from this man. "Again you flatter me, Emhyr," she remarked as a lascivious expression grew on her face. She reached through the slit at the front of his tunic and slowly untied the lacing on his trousers. He offered no resistance. She rubbed her hand firmly over the fabric, cupping it slightly. She could feel the mass beneath the leather that was still somewhat yielding at first but immediately stiffened at her touch.

Emhyr exhaled heavily and his customarily grim countenance hinted at a smile. There was hunger in his eyes, a sight which delighted Renzin. This was the hunger of a man who conquered nations and held the power of life and death. To know that he was looking at her with that same lust made her skin prickle with goosebumps and sent a jolt through her abdomen. She pulled down lightly on the front of his trousers and Emhyr's cock sprung out like a trap. The member certainly fit the man: strong and stout, elegantly veined and with a somehow noble upward curve.

Emhyr gripped the base of his shaft with one steady hand. "Open your mouth," he commanded.

Renzin parted her claret lips and reached her tongue out. She licked the head of Emhyr's cock delicately like a sugary treat. He laid his shaft down on her tongue and she enveloped as much as she could with her mouth. She sucked lightly and pulled back, a small bead of saliva dripping from her lip.

"Good girl," Emhyr murmured. He released his grip, letting Renzin replace his hand with hers. She stroked his cock slowly with a tight grip as she moved her mouth back and forth, side to side. She found it just a bit too long to fit comfortably without hitting the back of her throat.

Renzin worked diligently and could feel the pressure of Emhyr's hand on the back of her head. He started pushing harder into her mouth, holding her head in place for a few seconds before releasing it. She uttered some gagging noises and saliva wept from her lower lip.

"Hmm," Emhyr breathed throatily and pulled his cock out of Renzin's mouth with a small pop. "Take your dress off," he directed her. He began unfastening the buttons of his double-breasted tunic and pulled his gold chain and pendant over his head, placing it on the side table. All the while he watched Renzin intently like he was surveying a battlefield.

Renzin pulled at the ribbon that laced her bodice together tightly. She slipped her arms out of the sleeves and slid the dress downward. Her substantial breasts emerged like two cresting waves, dark nipples puckered. She continued to push the dress down over her body. It followed the curve of her hips, the gentle hills of her thighs and calves, until she slipped her feet out of the cavern of fabric.

Emhyr had removed his trousers and boots and stood watching her with his tunic open. Renzin noted that although he had probably not engaged in actual combat for decades, the emperor had maintained the robust physique of a soldier. Under all those elegant doublets he had been hiding this carved torso, this defined edge where his legs met his pelvis. Truly, here was a man who had never felt need to flash his virtues for gratification.

Taking a firm step toward the chaise, Emhyr pulled Renzin up and sat down in her place. "Come," he invited, and eased her onto his lap.

With her knees on either side of his thighs, Renzin could feel the warmth of his cock pushing against her. She leaned down and their lips met, pressing hard into each other but not frantically. As with all his actions, Emhyr was very deliberate and confident. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and seemed to consume her. He slid his hands over her back and held her tightly.

Renzin sighed in satisfaction and started grinding against Emhyr's cock as they kissed. She rubbed her sensitive mound of flesh against the velveteen skin, sensing a tingling heat coursing through her body and growing wetness from within her. Eventually Emhyr reached beneath her ass and encouraged her to lift herself up. He used one hand to guide his swollen cock into Renzin and she immediately moaned at the sensation of fullness.

Renzin began to move up and down slowly but vigorously. She had her hands on Emhyr's shoulders, around the back of his neck. Emhyr looked at her and truly could not help revealing a slight open-mouthed grin. Renzin had her head thrown back, eyes closed, the look on her face conveying both anguish and bliss. She cried out loudly without restraint. In this moment she was wild, carefree and exuberant. _A true treasure_ , Emhyr reflected. _Such union with her is worth more than gold_. He pulled himself against her and lapped hungrily at her bobbing breasts.

Their dance continued, Renzin riding hard and Emhyr driving up into her. As they slowed for a moment Emhyr leaned in and kissed her neck. "I want something else," he told her.

"Anything," Renzin replied.

"Turn around,"Emhyr commanded. Renzin moved off his lap and supported herself on the far arm of the chaise, gazing over her shoulder with a lusty glance. The curve of her lower back was like the basin of a lake, rising to the gentle peaks of her round rear.

Emhyr retrieved a bottle of scented oil from the side table and drizzled some onto his cock, spreading it with his hand. He rested his shaft between the plush cheeks of Renzin's ass and thrust up and down. Oil spread in the valley there and glistened on her rune-marked skin. He gripped his cock, aiming it straight like a sword. "Are you ready?" he breathed.

Renzin laughed playfully. "Yes, fuck me, fuck my ass," she implored, pushing back toward him.

Emhyr bore the tip of his cock into that small pucker in the heart of the valley, urging onward as they both emitted throaty groans. He thrust slowly in and out against the natural suction of flesh. Soon he increased the intensity, clenching Renzin's hips tightly and ramming hard into her. The sensation sent chills through her body. Emhyr wrapped his arms around her midsection and pulled her down with him as he reclined back on the far corner of the chaise. She lay on top of him panting and writhing in pleasure.

Emhyr continued thrusting into her as Renzin turned her head to the side and they kissed messily. He squeezed her large breasts firmly and ran his fingers over the dark nipples. Her fervent, husky cries spurred on the welling pressure in his loins. He had her bucking body coiled tightly in his embrace. His lips against her ear, he directed her, "Down on your knees."

Renzin slid off and fluidly kneeled before the chaise. "Your Majesty," she gasped with a smile and opened her mouth wide with her tongue extended. She framed her heavy breasts with her forearm, offering them up as if in supplication.

Emhyr stood before her and ran his hand up and down his cock in long, drawn out motions. He exhaled heavily and closed his eyes. His brows drew up in an almost melancholy expression. He let out a low growl as he pushed the warm fluid from his cock, dropping milky rivulets on Renzin's tongue, her plump lips.

Renzin wached the emperor intently as his orgasm moved through his body. She relished being privy to this moment, the most vulnerable spell of all men. Even this creature of power had been reduced in this very instance to a whimpering pup in the throes of his own passion. When he opened his eyes again and looked down at her, she closed her mouth and swallowed.

Emhyr smiled warmly at her, a satisfied, genuine smile. "Such a good girl," he proclaimed and bent down to help Renzin up. She stood against him, leaning her head against his shoulder and neck as he enveloped her with his arms. The perspiration on his skin had dried quickly. She inhaled his mild scent of spices and cedar wood.

Emhyr stroked her black hair in long passes. "My lady, what we shared—" he began.

"I know," Renzin interrupted. "I understand these emotions you're trying to convey. I still do not seek to be your empress but I agree that there's something particular and undeniable between us."

Emhyr leaned back slightly and looked into her eyes, one dark and smoky and one as green as any emerald in his royal pendant. "So, you will…" This time he trailed off, knowing he need not express his desires aloud.

"Yes, I will," Renzin stated and met his gaze intently. "I'll remain by your side. Whether I'm near or far in distance, you merely need to beckon and I will heed your call. I pledge my heart to you above all others, Emhyr."

As before, silence filled the room. The pair stood basking in each other's presence, basking in the beam of sunlight from the stained glass window; a ruler of nations and a reaper of minds.

* * *

"Hmm," Geralt remarked, "lurid. Not just a tryst between you two then?"

Renzin shrugged. "Well, I fully meant every word I said to him, if that's what you're asking. But I can do whatever I want. Just because we have a particular bond doesn't change the fact that I don't _belong_ to him. I'm neither slave nor wife." She contemplated for a moment then added, "He understands."

Just then a large man wearing mismatched armor slapped the door open and sauntered over to the mark Renzin had been watching. He sat down, grabbed the mug of beer out of the wretch's hand and started gulping it down.

"Our friend," Renzin indicated, and sat quietly for a moment. Suddenly she stood up and placed a hand on Geralt's shoulder. "I know where we need to go," she informed him covertly. "Come, we're heading into Novigrad."

Geralt nodded and put his mug to his lips. He paused, considering the murky liquid, and abandoned it on the table unfinished. _Surely plenty more ways to punish myself in the city_ , he mused as he followed Renzin from the inn.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The din of Novigrad proper was a steady hum, ever-present, a backdrop of sound. Vendors hawked their wares and animals cried out in their various languages. Geralt led Roach by his bridle and coaxed him up to a nearby post. Tying the horse loosely, he looked over to Renzin and raised his eyebrows. "So, where to?"

Renzin smiled crookedly at him from beneath the dark hood she had pulled over her head. "Well, the first thing I can tell you is that you're going to have to get naked. That's in the witcher skillset, is it not?"

"I'm an expert," Geralt replied with a wolfish twinkle in his eye, "but don't sell yourself short, now."

The pair followed the winding streets to just north of Hierarch Square. Renzin stopped at a set of wide steps leading down to a luxuriously decorated facade. A pair of ornate double doors sat closed with no guard posted outside. "You first," Renzin urged with a flick of her head.

Geralt's sharp senses did not detect any imminent danger as he stepped up to the door so he gave two firm knocks. A moment of silence followed, then suddenly the door slowly swung open. Geralt stepped in tentatively with Renzin trailing him a ways behind.

A flamboyantly dressed middle-aged man stood just inside the doorway. He bowed as soon as Geralt stepped in. "Enter, please, enter master! Welcome to the finest bathhouse in all of Novigrad!" He held his arms out toward a nearby room with latticed walls. "The gentleman may utilize the changing room here. Towels are already placed within." Then, suddenly noticing Renzin's dark figure behind Geralt, the man cleared his throat in surprise. "Ah, and for the lady, the room further down the hallway if you please."

Geralt glanced over at Renzin incredulously. "Alright, I'll bite. What are we doing here?"

By way of a reply Renzin told the concierge, "We're going to require an audience with the owner."

The man balked and pursed his lips. "My lady, the master is an extremely busy man and does not give audiences without appointment-"

Geralt traced a Sign in the air with his hand. "You'll do as the lady wishes," he stated flatly.

The concierge's eyes appeared glassy and he bowed, tapping his feet together primly. "I'll do as the lady wishes," he echoed. "The master will meet with you presently. Please wait for him in the baths." Turning, he disappeared behind a door at the other end of the hallway.

Renzin pouted. "But I didn't even get to menace him with my imperial seal..." she whined in mock dejection.

Geralt chuckled as he entered the changing room. "Just trying to be efficient. Better we get the business out of the way and get straight to the part where we disrobe." Moments later he emerged with just a towel wrapped around his waist. The puckered scars that crisscrossed his body gleamed in the dim lighting.

Renzin stepped out of the room beside his, naked save for her sand-colored skin. She had the towel draped over her shoulders like a cape. Geralt felt an uncontrollable twinge in his body as he unabashedly pored over her smooth, rune-covered body. Growling softly, he reached out and ran a rough hand over the mound of her ass.

Renzin took his hand and pulled him by it toward the entrance to the baths. "Can't take _you_ anywhere, hm?" she clucked. "Better get you in some water before you offend some unsuspecting patrons."

The baths consisted of a series of lofty chambers covered entirely in large slabs of ostentatious stone. Shallow pools spread throughout the area emitted lingering clouds of steam. Men and women, some towelled and some not, dotted the landscape. The water provided some kind of natural phosphorescence which contributed to the ethereal atmosphere.

Many eyes glanced fleetingly at Renzin's unusual appearance as she breezed through toward a more sparsely occupied inner chamber. Geralt elicited a few looks himself, most of which were best described as 'confused disdain'. When they reached the edge of the pool Renzin shrugged her towel off and stepped daintily into the water, squealing as the heat hit her skin. Geralt unceremoniously unwrapped himself and lowered his body into the pool. Immediately all the constant aches that he usually pushed to the back of his mind insistently made themselves known. He groaned in spite of himself and tried to loosen his tired muscles.

Renzin sidled up beside him. "Poor dear," she cooed mockingly, and rubbed his upper arms with her surprisingly firm grip.

Geralt leaned back and closed his eyes, allowing himself just a moment of ease. "Why meet in the baths?" he asked with his eyes still closed.

"Sigi's a careful man," Renzin replied. "He likes to be sure his associates have nothing hidden up their sleeves, quite literally."

"Mm. Smart, but witchers have a lot more tricks than just their swords," Geralt commented casually. "Even Roche used to say, 'A Temerian soldier's only as good as his fists say he is.'"

"Vernon Roche?" Renzin inquired with a surprised grin.

Geralt opened one eye and peered at her. "Now how the hell would you know a stuffed shirt like Vernon Roche?"

Renzin laughed heartily and crossed her hands behind her head, evidently recalling some amusing memory. "Oh, you don't want to hear about _that_ , do you?"

Geralt closed his eyes again and the corner of his mouth curled up in a slight grin. "Try me. Got the time right now."

Renzin leaned up against him, her lips near his shoulder. "Years ago Foltest had requested my presence in his court to try and convince me to serve as his advisor. He had heard tell of me through some lord or other and decided he had to have me for himself. He was also trying quite hard to bed me, as surprising as that is considering we share no familial blood."

Geralt snorted.

Renzin shrugged and continued, "He wasn't to my taste however and I spent an amusing week in his court rebuffing his advances and being lavished with gifts and luxuries. At the close of the week he threw a gala on a whim. It was a decorated affair, all manner of lords and ladies and ambassadors and whatnot in attendance. Foltest was trying to keep me on his arm like a prized piece of jewellery..."

* * *

"Magnate Leucard! Please, allow me to introduce you to Lady Renzin, whom I sincerely hope shall stay on as my advisor." King Foltest held out Renzin's rune-covered hand and gulped at his goblet of wine.

Magnate Leucard, a tall but portly man with a full beard and a deep blue floor-length doublet, took Renzin's hand and gently placed his lips on it. "Pleasure, my lady," he declared with a thick regional accent. "His Majesty evidently holds you in most high regard, and it is certainly not difficult to see why."

Renzin wore her long, black hair tied up high like a horse's tail. Her dress swept to the floor in dark maroon velvet and glimmered with gold filigree. The low neckline framed her bosom like a heart. She wore a thick band of gold tight to her neck. "Charmed," she replied politely, and nodded to the magnate.

Foltest, impressed with himself, began discussing politics with Magnate Leucard and another stuffy grey-haired man who had joined them. Renzin's eyes and mind darted around the room milling with affluently-dressed people, seeking some means of escape. Not sensing anything particularly of interest, she chose a small group at random that had congregated near a pillar toward a corner of the room. Pulling away from Foltest's arm, she could hear him begin to protest but quickly become absorbed back into the heated political discussion. _So these noblemen are good for something after all_ , she thought as she elegantly strode across the room.

Renzin stepped into the circle non-chalantly, grabbing a goblet of wine from a passing servant's tray. "Excuse me, I hope you don't mind if I join you," she ventured with a beguiling smile.

"Certainly not," an aged man in a large square hat replied with a half bow. "You are His Majesty's guest of honor, my lady, I daresay you may enter any conversation you wish. Please, allow me to introduce myself; I am Lord Gilderad and this is Lady Coriana." He gestured toward a thin, fair woman who regarded Renzin with barely disguised contempt but managed a curtsey. "And this," Lord Gilderad continued, "is the formidable Vernon Roche, Commander of the Temerian Special Forces."

Roche certainly carried a presence with him. His blue and black striped doublet strained tightly over his broad chest, hinting at the powerful soldier's physique contained within. His chin-length chestnut hair was loosely swept back with a natural wave. Renzin admired his his angular jaw and dark, pensive eyes without any attempt at discretion. _Looks like I_ _lucked out here_ , she mused as she held out her hand to him. "How interesting," she remarked.

Roche took her hand and kissed it stiffly. "Surely not as much as you imagine, my lady," he replied flatly in his authoritative tone.

The group jumped from topic to topic, covering the standard conversational fare usually reserved for such formal occasions. All the while Renzin kept her eyes locked on Roche who shyly returned her glance a few times. She reached into his mind just a little bit and discovered that he was quite enchanted by her and found her devastatingly attractive, which did not particularly surprise her. She also confirmed that he had a tough veneer of discipline honed by a lifetime of military service that discouraged him from frivolity. Renzin had already suspected this would be the case; luckily, she loved a good challenge.

After a few empty goblets of wine Lady Coriana hissed some unheard words in Gilderad's ear and his face fell. "Excuse me, Lady Renzin, Commander Roche. It appears we've been neglecting our other associates. It's been a pleasure conversing with you both." He had barely finished speaking before Coriana bustled him off to some other corner of the room.

Roche swirled his wine, glancing across the room then back to Renzin. "Just us now," he observed awkwardly and gave her an apologetic smile.

"That's right. Are you disappointed?" she looked back at him from beneath lowered eyelids.

"Why, who would be disappointed to be alone with the most beautiful and intriguing woman here?" he blurted out all at once. That wine was starting to work its magic.

Renzin laughed and placed a hand on his arm. "What a lovely creature you are," she said coquettishly. "An elite commando fumbling his way around a mere woman."

"My lady, you are no mere woman!" Roche insisted. "I didn't think I was _fumbling_..." he added indignantly.

"Perhaps I was a little harsh," Renzin conceded. "Do you think you can prove me wrong?"

Roche examined her expression and felt her grip tighten a bit on his forearm. Her cheeks were very lightly flushed with drink and her mismatched eyes sparkled mischievously. He felt his inhibitions being dismantled by all manner of influences from the endearing poison of alcohol to the allure of this woman who seemed to be able to say exactly what he wanted to hear. "You seem like you've had enough of all these people," he put forth at last.

"Yes. What I really want to do is to go somewhere else with Vernon Roche, Commander of the Temerian Special Forces."

"But where could we possibly go?" Roche asked with genuine uncertainty.

"It's a big castle," Renzin shrugged, "I'm sure we'd make excellent explorers." She took Roche's hand without warning and enthusiastically led him toward one of the open double doors. "Come, let's go!"

Roche stumbled after her, glancing over his shoulder. He could see Foltest staring narrow-eyed in their direction, trying to ascertain where they were headed, surrounded by a group of noblemen and women all chattering at him. "But my lady, the king-" Roche protested with his voice lowered.

Renzin whirled around and took his other hand with a laugh, continuing to step out the doorway backward. "I do think it's very sweet that you're such a patriot Vernon but you must not worry about Foltest, honestly. He's just a big old bore who's wishing he was you right now."

Roche's cheeks flushed inadvertently, which Renzin thought was quite adorable. He ceased his protests and followed her into the candlelit hallway. The flames flickered off the suits of armor that adorned the hall in a long row. The pair wandered about jesting, laughing and spilling wine, trying doors and finding most of them locked. Presently Renzin twisted the knob on one door that opened into a small library with a wall of windows, a desk in the middle of the room and a roaring lit fireplace in another wall.

"Someone was up to some late night scholarly pursuits," Renzin remarked, rifling through the piles of papers on the desk.

Roche closed the door behind him and sauntered around the room, examining the spines of the books. He looked over at Renzin who was leaning on the desk watching him. "Somehow I think..." he began.

"That I have a less noble pursuit in mind?" she finished and tilted her head back, arching her neck.

Roche could feel his blood pumping almost audibly. He grinned toothily at Renzin and stepped up to her, grabbing her in one swift motion and sitting her up on the desk. He pushed himself between her knees and leaned down to kiss her. He felt her tongue agilely push into his mouth. He hiked up her long dress and ran his hands up the warm, smooth skin of her outer thighs. "I don't often partake in the ignoble pursuits," he mumbled between meetings of their lips. "After all, I have to set a firm example for my men."

Renzin reached to deftly undo the clasps of Roche's fancy doublet. She looked up at him with her tongue at her teeth. "I lack discipline," she said slyly, "so I think you'd better show me that firm example."

"As the lady wishes," Roche proclaimed rather charmingly despite his mild inebriation and pulled off his tight doublet, letting it drop to the floor. The firelight gleamed off his tanned skin, leaving arcs of shadow defining his thick pectorals, his roughly hewn abdomen. The soft swath of hair coating his chest was intermittently interrupted by a few white ridges, souvenirs of encounters with blades.

Renzin could see an oblong shape straining at the laces of Roche's trousers. She let one of her shoes slip off and pushed on his crotch with her bare foot, coaxing a breathy grunt from Roche in response. "Show me what's in here," she demanded.

Roche chuckled and said, "I usually only take orders from my king." As he spoke he slowly unlaced his trousers and pulled down the front just enough to retrieve his erect cock, straight and surprisingly dark in color. It was longer than a palm's length and of relatively standard girth, resembling a spear of smooth flesh.

Gracefully twisting herself over to lie on her front, Renzin giggled like a maid, still giddy from the wine. Her dress pulled under her weight and started to slip off one shoulder to reveal a shapely curve of breast pushing against the desk. "My goodness..." she drawled as she lightly caressed Roche's cock with both hands, drawing them up and down the length of it, circling all around and under his balls. She craned her neck out and licked the tip of the smooth appendage, then absorbed most of the shaft in her warm mouth, not quite making it to the base.

Roche growled, pleased with the sensation, and breathed heavily. He absently smoothed a few escaped wisps of Renzin's hair against her head and pushed deeper into her throat. He could hear her straining to accept the entire length of his cock and he eased back a bit. Placing his hand at the back of her head he tilted his hips up and rhythmically pushed in again and again, venturing a little deeper each time. Renzin obligingly wrapped her lips around his flesh, murmuring and coughing in response.

Reluctantly Roche pulled his cock out, gleaming with a coat of saliva. "Roll over," he commanded brusquely. Renzin maneuvered onto her back and leaned her head back over the edge of the desk. Guiding it with his hand, Roche slid his cock in her mouth and started to thrust immediately, increasing his speed. Renzin's gagging noises turned to eager moans as he slid his hands down the front of her dress and over her puckered nipples. He rubbed with his palms and alternately pinched softly with his fingertips, all the while feeling the tip of his cock nudging the back of Renzin's throat.

Presently Roche threw his head back and let out a long sigh which trailed off into a bit of a chuckle. He slowed his pace and let his engorged cock slide out of its wet encasement. "Come over here," he demanded affectionately, "let me get underneath that dress of yours."

Renzin deftly curled upward and swivelled around on her bottom. Stretching her feet toward the ground but not quite touching it, she grabbed Roche about the waist and pulled him in close, crossing her legs tightly behind him. She dug a hand into his thick hair as he leaned down to kiss her. His warm, dry skin smelled of rich pipe tobacco, smoke and the king's wine.

While they pressed their mouths together Roche absently rubbed his hand up and down somewhere deep under the hiked up hem of Renzin's dress. He pawed at her silky knickers and yanked them down her legs and over her feet as if they were offending him. Between the two of them they managed to clumsily slide her dress over her head, her heavy breasts dropping out one at a time. They continued to kiss sloppily as Roche tried to draw his hands over all the previously hidden parts of her skin.

Roche had some sort of abrupt idea and suddenly put his hands under her and picked Renzin up with her legs still wrapped around his body. Peals of laughter and curses erupted from both of them as he waddled over to the bookcase with his trousers sliding down his lean legs to pool around his ankles. He slammed her a bit harder than intended into the bookcase and by sheer momentum their faces came together again. In the kiss Roche tasted blood and when he pulled back he could see that Renzin's claret lips were redder than before.

"You bit your lip, you clumsy fool," Renzin teased and wiped her mouth with her arm, leaving a red streak.

Roche growled at her with a smile. Using the leverage of the bookcase at her back, he lowered Renzin and tentatively probed at her opening with his cock. She moaned receptively and so he thrust upward, feeling the tight passage of flesh just barely give way.

Renzin gasped and tightened her grasp on Roche's shoulders. He had her clasped about the hips and pulled himself hard into her, shaking the books in their neat rows, easily supporting her weight at the ideal angle. With increasing speed he thrust her against the shelf. His furious yet unstrained pace took Renzin by surprise. She closed her eyes and squeezed her brow up imploringly, feeling her breasts shaking wildly with the impact.

Roche drifted between suckling at Renzin's nipples and licking the sand-colored skin of her sternum, instinctively tracing the swirling patterns there. She arched her back high, pushing her chest into the air and grinding her pelvis in delightful ways against the hardness inside her. She could tell that waves of pleasure were coursing through her but that wine was making it difficult to concentrate on any particular sensation. _Fuck it_ , she thought and relaxed, letting Roche take the lead.

Presently Renzin could feel Roche's grip on her slipping slightly. A dull pinch streaked through her abdomen as his long cock tapped at her cervix. "Aye there, soldier... too deep..." she gasped with a smile.

"Hm?" Roche uttered with surprise and immediately fell out of his rhythmic thrusting. Upon slowing he felt a sudden light-headedness which caused him to grimace and shake his head. He gently let Renzin down to the floor and stumbled toward the fireplace, hopping on one leg to pull off his bunched trousers. "Just need to lie down here a moment..." he managed as he collapsed on the furry hide rug in front of the fire's warm glow.

Renzin padded over a bit more steadily and dropped down beside Roche with her body pasted against his. He encircled her with one arm and placed his other palm flat on his chest, trying to regain his bearings. "Apologies, my lady," he offered sheepishly. "I blame the drink, although you may choose not to believe me."

"Hm, well from here it looks like you're not through yet," Renzin observed slyly while gazing at his still-erect cock lying on his stomach, pulsating in time with his heartbeat.

Roche laughed earnestly. "I am known as a stubborn bastard, it's true. Maybe you could just..." he raised his eyebrows in a cheeky question.

"Mm-hm," Renzin murmured and grabbed his erection firmly in her hand. She started stroking it deftly, gliding over what remained of the moisture that had come from her own body.

Roche groaned in his throat and keenly watched her as she twisted her wrist to reach varying angles over the entirety of his length. With the arm that was wrapped around her body he fumbled at her breast and squeezed it tight. He writhed with his hips and flexed his legs. Renzin's tireless hand kept pace with the indications that he unknowingly gave her.

A mix of pain and relaxation came over Roche's countenance. He grabbed Renzin's hand in his own and pulled it slowly over the entire length of his cock. On the second pass he uttered a growled sigh and squeezed out a viscous pool onto his own abdomen. He sleepily pulled a third time and released his grip to stretch his arm above his head. With his eyes closed, Roche let his head flop in Renzin's direction and exhaled through his mouth, grinning stupidly.

"Congratulations," Renzin declared glibly. She sighed and rolled onto her back, mimicking Roche's own posture, pushing in closer to his arm that still encircled her. The pair lay in silence with the fire casting flickering shadows.

Without warning there was a quiet knock at the door. Roche's eyes immediately flared open and he attempted to bolt to his feet, instead only managing to raise himself on one elbow with one knee in the air. "Do we reply?" he whispered worriedly to Renzin. She also leaned up on her elbows and merely raised a hand to still Roche.

A demure voice spoke from the other side of the closed door. "My lady, you need not confirm your presence," he said, "but if you are to be found within, I am to inform you that His Majesty has requested your attendance in the ballroom as he is about to perform the royal toast." The voice paused, then added, "The same request extends to any whose company you may share." Curt footsteps could then be heard echoing away down the hall.

"Well," Renzin sighed with her eyebrows raised, "I suppose it's only fitting that the commander of the Temerian Special Forces is the one to escort me back to the festivities from whatever corner of the castle I was lost in."

Roche chuckled and shook his head. "My lady, you certainly have aplomb, the likes of which I've very rarely seen in court."

Renzin toyed with her gold choker. "My, my, are you... nervous? Vernon Roche, war hero? It can't be!"

Roche shrugged and groped for his trousers which were in a sad bunch on the floor nearby. "In our short acquaintance I have learned to follow your lead, my lady. Just promise me again that I won't be in the shit with the king. Although, I do readily believe you've got him wrapped around those fingers of yours."

Smiling smugly, Renzin told him, "You won't, and I do."

* * *

Geralt slid down further into the steaming water with only his head remaining unsubmerged. "Vernon Roche," he mused. "So, old boy's got some spark to him after all. Must have been red as a beet when you he walked back into that party with _you_ on his arm."

Renzin giggled and looked up at the ceiling. "He handled himself rather well, I'll have you know. I even spent a few more days with him during my stint in Vizima and there were even a few more coincidental encounters in the years following. He's not as stiff as you might think." Geralt opened his mouth to comment and she hastily interjected, "Relatively speaking, anyway."

"Not quite who I expected to see," a familiar, harsh voice proclaimed from behind Geralt, "although you are the type to fuck around with a poor man's head like that."

Geralt turned to see an imposing figure, both in height and circumference. "Dijkstra!" he declared with surprise.

"That's Sigi Reuven to you, whitehair, and this here's my fine establishment you're soiling." The large man looked down and considered Renzin, who was still stretched out in relaxation. "My lady, on the other hand, is surely who I'd expect to see when some man shows up in a daze. Why am I not bloody well surprised to find you and the witcher, of all people, arm in arm like a couple of wenches?"


End file.
